


Paper Rings

by basementmixtape



Series: stozier songfics [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bisexual Richie Tozier, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Friends in love, Gay Stan Uris, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Madly In Love, Soft Boys, Stozier, Wedding, fuck that clown, proposal, richie and stan are best friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementmixtape/pseuds/basementmixtape
Summary: “I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper ringsUh-huh, that’s rightDarling, you’re the one I wantAnd I hate accidents except when we went from friends to thisUh-huh, that’s rightDarling, you’re the one I want.”Stan brings Richie to his cousin’s wedding, Richie asks an important question.Inspired by Paper Rings by Taylor Swift. Tooth-Rotting fluff.





	Paper Rings

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place after the first two instalments in this series, but like the others, can easily be read as a stand-alone.

"Are you sure this one is alright?" Richie was pacing, in nothing but an unbuttoned blue shirt and his underwear, the bare expanse of his pale chest, his legs, his long neck, all clean of bruises and marks. He had been restraining himself for this, he would bite him black and blue tonight, but the idea of introducing his boyfriend to his extended family covered in hickeys made him feel panicked in a bad way.

Richie was coming with him to his cousin'swedding. Natalia had been his favourite growing up, spending every family dinner, every celebration, every week at temple whispering in dark corners, playing together, sharing hard candies and secrets. She was always so open, soft and kind in a way Stan had never been. She moved away with her parents when he was thirteen, and apparently found a boy she loved enough to marry at the tiny, fragile age of nineteen. His father had frowned rather aggressively when they got the invitation in the mail, with a fat envelope addressed to Stan, stuffed with photos and pages of rambling letters. Apparently, his name was Claudius, and he was the love of her life. His father had ranted about early marriages being reckless, but Stan had stayed silent.

He probably would've married Richie the second they turned eighteen, if it was legal. They had been dating for about a year, and most of their friends were none the wiser, commenting on Richie's hickeys and Stan's growing collection of turtlenecks, never quite connecting all the dots. Which was good, because if all their friends knew, they would probably never get off of each other, stitched together by their lips.

"I literally bought you that shirt specifically for this occasion." Stan sighed. Richie had a hideous yellow shirt he had been planning to wear, it was completely unacceptable. They had gone shopping in town, Stan comparing fabrics long enough Richie actually started to fall asleep in against the wall, he had given him an apologetic blowjob when they got back to his place. "Of course it's alright."

"Well, with you looking so fucking dapper, I feel a little inadequate." Stan rolled his eyes, pulling him closer, buttoning up the shirt for him, trying his tie around his neck, plain black, it matched his suit jacket. They were standing in their shared hotel room, his parents getting ready across the hall, having flown from Bangor to Vermont. It was a huge white wedding, like Natalia had always daydreamed about. Stan didn't want anything like that, he wanted something in a backyard, with just his immediate family and friends, about love instead of excess. He realized very suddenly that he would marry Richie tomorrow if he asked, embarrassment rushing through him.

"You are _definitely_ not inadequate." He pulled him down by his tie, kissing him sweetly, smacking at his hands when he tried to touch his hair. "Don't you fucking dare."

"You look so hot though, it's not fair."

"Keep your hands to yourself, we can do this anytime, I put so much shit in my hair today it's ridiculous." He ran a hand through his boyfriend's soft curls, touching the edge of his new glasses, a new form of affection. He had replaced the huge specs he'd had through most of high school and all of middle school with slightly less bulky ones, they suited his face more, with thick black lines, metal instead of plastic. Harder to break. "Go put on your pants, we have to leave soon."

"Yes, daddy." Stan's face twisted with revulsion.

"I told you to stop calling me that, asshole." Richie grinned, winking.

"What are you gonna do, punish me?" His cheeks felt hot.

"You're so fucking disgusting." He shoved him into the bathroom, throwing his clothes at him, ignoring his bright peals of laughter.

-

The venue was beautiful, surrounded by untouched snow, a huge house they had rented on the outskirts of a little village, it was white, and blue, and so pretty it almost didn't seem real. Inside was a cavernous floral dream, flowers festooned across any surface that could hold them, all white and blue and pale pink. It was gorgeous. Richie was beside him, his presence comforting, most of the people there only knew him for one thing: his disastrous Bar Mitzvah speech. He had rambled about being a loser, sworn into the mic, dropped it and fled, Richie clapping slowly behind him, then sneaking out the back and following him into the woods. They had sat beside each other against a tree, Stan cried into his shoulder, and Richie had tried to cheer him up with stupid jokes, terrified of feeling anything at all.

They mingled with his distant aunts and uncles, his uncle Fredrik pulling Richie into an awkward hug when he saw them.

"I trust you're treating our Stanley well?" Richie was crimson.

"Yes, sir." He squeaked, and Stan smiled slightly, watching him squirm.

"Terry, see, this is Stanley's boy. I told you they would come." He pulled his wife over to talk with them, asking about everything, from their friends to after school plans, to their relationship, Richie reluctantly admitted that he wasn't going to university yet, but that Stan was majoring in veterinary sciences and zoology.

"Richie acts like a moron most of the time, but he's way smarter than me, he was in all AP classes." Stan grabbed his hand affectionately, glancing up at him, watching his cheeks turn red. "He just has to pick between all the options he's got."

"Why veterinary sciences?" They made small talk for a while longer, waiting to be herded into their seats for the ceremony, it was nice, but eventually Stan's father appeared, working himself into the conversation, then shutting them out entirely, rattling off inside jokes and nonsensical quips he couldn't even dream of understanding. Him and Richie slipped away, and happened upon Natalia completely by accident. She was frantically wandering in the long white hallways, wearing a plain white slip, looking so adult that he hardly recognized her, feeling almost childish in his black and white suit. Her long brown hair was twisted artfully to one side, her blue eyes surrounded by long eyelashes and golden eyeshadow. Recognition flickered between them, and she froze.

"Stan?" He dropped Richie's hand like he'd been burned, suddenly thirteen all over again. It had been five years since they had seen each other last, and she was glowing, absolutely radiantly beautiful. All of her awkward features seemed right now, her huge eyes, her pointy elbows, and that gap between her teeth, she had grown into all of it. "You're so tall now." Her voice was tiny, faint.

"I wish I could say the same." He said, and she beamed, pulling him into a hug. She felt so small now, she had been taller than him when she left, now he was six foot two, and she was still five foot five, even in her heels, she was tiny. "Congratulations, Natalia." She broke the embrace, looking behind him curiously.

"He looks familiar, but I don't know him." She looked at him with those sharp, icy blue eyes. Always plotting.

"Richie Tozier." He offered her a hand, and she shook it quickly, tilting her head a bit, looking between them.

"My boyfriend." Stan said in a small voice, watching her eyes go all huge and glassy.

"You _dick_! I write to you about Claudius and you just hide your own little love story, I didn't even know you were gay, that isn't even remotely fair. Button me in, all my brides maids are dealing with a little situation- the head chef basically just collapsed, so they're getting one in from some restaurant in the village, it's so ridiculous." She slipped into the dress, and Stan helped button the back, smiling a little. She hadn't changed, not really. "You and the Tozier boy your mom was always complaining about? Nice." Stan flushed, glancing at Richie'sreflection.

"She's alright with him now."

"She fucking loves me Uris, she actually ruffled my hair the way she does with yours when we got in the lobby. Your dad is bringing her into the light." Stan groaned.

"She does that because she thinks it looks messy, Rich-"

"It's an affection thing, it's so obviously an affectionate action." He was talking with his hands again, those two fingers extended, the way they would've been if he was holding a cigarette, Stan's heart was swelling in his chest. "She called me 'little love' when she caught me staring at you on the plane, and she gave me that necklace at New Years, the family thing, she said my boys, and she-she grabbed my shoulder. She really doesn't hate me anymore-"

"Alright, you've convinced me." Stan got the last button, and smoothed a hand over them, making all of it lie flat. "She doesn't despise you."

"And thank fuck for it, if I had to climb through your window one more time-"

"Beep beep, Trashmouth." Stan said dryly, looking at Natalia, who seemed to be swallowing laughter.

"What?" She smiled wide.

"You two argue like an old married couple, it sounds like you're discussing the in-laws or something." Richie was red in the cheeks, fingers twitching around the zippo lighter Stan had given him for his birthday. "How long have you been dating?" Stan rolled his eyes.

"We've been together for- holy fuck, Stan I think we missed our anniversary-" He was feigning panic, badly. Stan was absolutely disgusted with himself for the way his blood was singing, his mind alight with nothing but Richie, his hair and his pink lips and his black eyes.

"No we didn't, you say that every time someone asks that question, you asshole. We got high and watched John Hughes movies. You cried at the end of every single one of them." Richie pouted, and Stan had to try desperately to keep a smile off his face. It wasn't working.

"You're no fun, that could be a great bit, but you shoot it down every time."

"Because it isn't funny, Eddie told you it wasn't funny, so did Beverly-"

"It's about the spirit of the thing, little bird." He slumped against a chair.

"We've been dating since last December, just before Hanukkah."

"December seventeenth, the momentous day me and Stan finally fucked-"

"_Richard Tozier-_"

"Oh, calm down, little bird." He shoved his glasses up his nose, they were heavier than his old ones, always sliding down. "You knew what you were signing up for when you got tickets to the Tozier train."

"Oh my god, you're fucking unbearable." He knew he was bright red. "Absolutely unloveable, even breathing the same air as you is making me want to choke the life out of you." Richie had a familiar fire in his eyes.

"Promise?" Stan blinked at him for a moment, then dissolved into laughter, quick and loud, letting all the stress bleed out of him. It was over as quickly as it started, but his idiot boyfriend looked so pleased with himself, perched on the love seat in the bridal chamber with his hands clasped over his knees, smiling faintly. Natalia was looking at them with so much affection it was almost dizzying.

"I've never, ever, heard him laugh like that, and I've known him for literally his entire life." She grabbed a pack of smokes out of one of the dozens of drawers on the vanity, lighting one. Richie took that as his cue, lighting one of his. Lucky Lights, the same ones him and Bev had always smoked. They slipped into old habits, and soon he was talking with her like she'd never left, sharing secrets and splitting cigarettes laughing into their shirts, but this time, she was in a wedding dress. They sipped cold wine with her, Richie swallowing it easy as water. After one glass, his cheeks were red, it was one of Stan's favourite things, Richie's reactions to tiny changes. A glass of wine made him rosy and bright, his kisses leaving little ghosts of the flavour on his lips. Eventually, the brides maids came back, a flock of girls with big hair and bright eyes.

The boys were herded out, into their seats for the ceremony. They watched Claudius walk down the aisle first, his parents on either arm, leaving him under the chuppah, he was a very pretty boy, all warm skin, wild red hair and dark eyes, he looked nervous, and the moment he saw Natalia come around the corner, looking ethereal in her long white dress, the veil over her face, her mother and father on either arm, he burst into tears. They walked her to his side, under the altar, it was covered in flowers, a tallit serving as the roof. He lifted her veil, and they exchanged vows, she was crying too, so beautiful beside him she almost didn't seem real. The ceremony passed in a blur. They kissed, and Claudius smashed the glass, everyone around him laughing and cheering for them, crying out in a chorus: "_Mazel Tov!_"

Stan glanced at Richie at his side, a smile on his lips that melted the moment they met eyes. Richie was already staring at him, his dark eyes intense, and so unbearably _sad_ it almost took his breath away. All of the noise around them faded away, Stan grabbed his hand, running his thumb over the back of it, concern flooding him. He leaned in close, voice low and soft.

"What's wrong?" Richie just held his hand, his black eyes shining, staring at the wedding all around them, the happy faces and tearful ones, the bride and groom, the flowers, the bag with the broken glass, at him, his dark eyes so intense.

"I think I want to marry you." Stan's throat felt thick, tears gathering in his eyes. "I wish I could marry you."

"We can get married." He said quietly. "We can figure it out, we could do it, Richie." The crowd was migrating to the newlyweds, but they were frozen, stuck in those chairs, just looking at each other, hands shaking, eyes shining. This was huge. This was life altering.

"Will you marry me, Stan? I don't have a ring, I don't have anything, I'm a fucking disaster, but I love you. I will always love you, as long as I'm alive I'm going to love you. You're it for me, Uris."

"Yes." He said, as if he could ever say no, he felt like he was drowning, light flooding his veins, helium, he could float. "I'll marry you, Richie." He kissed him, so quickly Stan almost didn't register it, and stood, a smile spreading over his lips that was so wide he could see every crooked tooth in his mouth.

"I love you, thank you, I love you. I'm gonna go have a smoke, you go congratulate Natalia and Claudius for me, alright? I love you."

Stan nodded, feeling dizzy, stepping into the crowd, only realizing it was his turn when Natalia grabbed his arm.

"Stan, are you alright?" He nodded, still so dazed he didn't realize Claudius was staring at him.

"I think Richie just proposed to me?" Her mouth fell open and she pulled him into a hug.

"Oh my god, Stan that's incredible, I'm so happy for you! Where is he?" He finally snapped back to reality, flushing immediately. He shook Claudius's hand, he looked confused, but still glowing, bright with joy, staring at Natalia like she was the sun.

"He went out for a smoke, sorry, it literally just happened, I'm a little-"

"Can he even do that? Marry you?" She had furrowed brows, and sad eyes.

"Not legally, but I don't think anything is going to stop him." He smiled again. "Congratulations, I'm so happy for the both of you. The ceremony was so beautiful, I think I actually cried. I know your marriage will be happy and full of love." He ducked out of the crowd, finding Richie outside the doors. He was standing against the wall, looking dazed, staring at the snow covered fields and bare trees with soft eyes, a smile on his lips. He wasn't smoking, just standing there, in his own world entirely.

Stan let the door close behind him, walking to Richie's side, resting his head on his shoulder, warmth spreading through his chest, so in love the feeling was almost tangible. Richie wrapped an arm around him, pulling him against his chest, tucking his chin and kissing his hair. They stayed like that for longer than they probably should have, just breathing in the cold winter air, so happy they could hardly speak, Stan was so beyond caring that Richie was ruining his hair, that his fucking fiancé was ruining his hair.

"We're getting married." He said faintly, and Richie laughed breathlessly.

"You want to marry _me_." His voice was shaking, pulling away, and just looking at him, eyes all intense again, serious and strange, so soft they looked like liquid, the same way they had the night Stan realized he was in love with him. "I never want to live without you, I've been thinking about that a lot lately, and I just- being in there, seeing all of it, seeing your face, and the lights, and all of the weird fucking shit you Jews do, I just want that for you. I want you to have it."

"I don't need any of it if I have you." Stan said, and Richie ran a fingertip down his cheek, so gentle he almost didn't feel the touch, staring into him, the cold air didn't even touch them, they were as warm as twin stars, radiating heat and joy and light.

"You can have both. I promise." He kissed him, every touch tender and deliberate. It wasn't a heavy kiss, it was gentle and warm, radiating between them, their lips barely parting, just holding each other. Richie broke the kiss, resting his forehead against his, staring into his eyes, hands grabbing at his, sliding something onto his finger. "It's not a real ring, I'm getting you a real ring eventually, but this will work for today." Stan realized he was crying, staring down at the little ring Richie had made him, thrown together with a scrap of red paper in his pocket.

"I love you so goddamn much it's kind of humiliating." He whispered, voice breaking, pulling him into another kiss, hand wrapping around his jaw. They pulled away, and the door opened behind them. Natalia and Claudius, apparently sneaking away from their own wedding reception.

"Nat?" Stan asked, glad his voice didn't break, wiping at his eyes. She spun, clinging to her husbands arm.

"Stan, are you crying?" She turned on Richie. "What did you do?" She grabbed his arm and his winced, she twisted it, her grip too tight.

"Stop the violence, stop the violence, I fucking- I _proposed_ to him- Jesus Christ, woman!" He wrenched his arm out of her grip. "Me and Stan are getting married." Even though he had just been violently grabbed, and apparently injured based on how he was holding his arm, he had a huge, childlike smile on his face.

"You two are adorable." She grabbed Stan's cheek and he grimaced, grabbing her wrist.

"Don't do that." His voice was a monotone, he hated when she did this, treated him like he was about four years old when he was a year younger.

"Come on, Stanley!" A smile broke through, the sentence followed them through childhood, every time he would hesitate, her little voice would shriek '_Come on, Stanley!_' and he would suddenly feel a little braver. She hugged him again, holding his hand. "Did he propose with a paper ring?" She was smiling so wide, they both were.

"It's Richie, you think he actually planned to propose to me today?"

"I'm gonna get him a real ring, I'm not a fucking degenerate." Stan smiled, looking at Claudius, who still looked incredibly confused, like he didn't know who they were, which to be fair, he didn't.

"I'm Natalia's favourite cousin, Stanley, and this is my asshole boyfriend- _fiancé_ now, I guess- Richie Tozier. You'll know me as the one that ruined his own Bar Mitzvah, probably."

"That was hilarious." Richie grabbed his hand and he let him pull him against his chest, putting up no resistance. "He basically just stood at the mic while his dad tried to chase him down going, this is bullshit, I'm a loser, I'll always be a loser, all of you are bullshit, fuck this, then dropped the mic and left. It was so beautiful I almost wept." Stan rolled his eyes.

"It was so embarrassing, you saw me afterwards, I cried for like three days."

"Yeah, I remember because it scared the shit out of me-" Claudius cut him off.

"How long have you known each other, exactly?" Richie shrugged, looking at Stan.

"First grade? I remember you were hiding at recess because Henry Bowers kept taking your _yarmulke_ and tossing it to his friends like it was a frisbee." Stan smiled faintly.

"And you snatched it out of the air and ran like hell to give it back to me, Bill used to hate you because you made fun of his stutter, but whenever he tried to banish you from the group, me and Eddie vetoed it." Richie looked surprised.

"Eds vetoed it? He fucking hates me, the Billy bit I understand." He fell into a near perfect impression of their friend. "_He thrusts h-his fists ah-against the-the posts, a-and still insists he suh-sees the guh-ghosts-"_

"Beep beep, Richie, he's a lot better now."

"A bit rich coming from you, aren't you still fighting with him?" Stan sighed.

"I'm always fighting with him, he keeps getting pissy about me not telling him who's sucking hickeys onto my neck." Richie's expression darkened.

"Maybe Mushmouth has a crush."

"Yeah, on his fucking girlfriend. Don't be an asshole." Stan sighed. "I need to talk to him, though, the last time we spoke I distinctly remember punching him in the face."

Richie dropped into a voice, like a old timey sports commentator. "_The Chronicles of Bill Denbrough and his very punchable face continue, as Stan clocks him for the fifth time this year-"_

"Denbrough?" Natalia cut them off, staring between them with wide eyes. "Billy and Georgie Denbrough?"

"Do you know them or something?" Richie raised an eyebrow, peering at Claudius, who had gone very red.

"They're my cousins, I haven't seen them in ages."

"Well, Bill is an asshole, so you aren't missing very much-"

"_Richard_!" He flushed, glancing down at Stan.

"He's dating some girl named Audra, she's in a theatre program at his uni, he's an English major. Georgie is in middle school, and he's going through a glorious punk phase, it's adorable." Claudius frowned, looking at them curiously, he opened his mouth to speak, but Natalia shook her head. Stan relaxed slightly, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"We should go back inside, Dove, my parents might be looking for us." He nodded, and Natalia hugged them both a bit too tightly, her eyes impossibly bright.

"I know your marriage will be happy and full of love," She said softly, his own words bouncing back at him, tears gathering in his eyes again, spoken between them, directed at both. "_Mazel tov_, Stanley, Richard." She let go of them, and they slipped back inside.

-

"I am not going in that fucking pool." Richie was peeling off his suit in the icy January air, they were the only ones outside, it was two in the morning, but the pool had steam rising off of it in thick, winding coils, it glowed blue. He watched him unbutton his shirt, the pale expanse of his back, his bony spine, his skinny chest, goosebumps covering every inch of skin.

"Come on, please?" Stan looked at him, his lips were losing colour. His resolve shrank, and when Richie bit his bottom lip, that stupid nervous habit he'd had their whole lives, it disappeared completely. He slid off his suit jacket, the chill already wrapping around him, goosebumps crawling up his arms. They stripped down to their underwear, Stan finally getting to his yarmulke, unpinning it with shaking hands, putting it on top of his suit. He watched Richie smile wide, and basically fall into the pool, after half a breath, Stan followed him.

The warm water pressed on them from all sides, Stan opened his eyes, ignoring the chlorine burn, staring at Richie under the glowing blue lights. His hair was standing up all around him, bubbles surrounding them, the winter cold forgotten in the heat of the endless, eternal moment. His eyes were closed, his pale skin caught in the light, the shadows under his eyes, the acne scars on his cheeks, the scar cutting across his eyebrow. This was Richie. His best friend. The love of his life.

Stan grabbed his cheek, and kissed him under the water, so grateful he was burning with it. What would've happened to him if Richie hadn't shown up on his doorstep the third day of winter break? He wouldn't have this, this burning, this all consuming love, this passion that had swallowed him whole. He loved him. He was going to marry him. They swam to the surface, and Richie kissed him again, pulling him into his arms, so warm Stan couldn't feel the cold, their mouths opening, tongues between teeth, eyes shut tight. He dug his hands into his hair, letting out sharp, breathless gasps into his skin, into his mouth, clinging to him in the winter air. He opened his eyes, looking at him in the dim light from the hotel and the pool water. His lips were blue.

"This was a terrible idea." Richie kissed down his neck, Stan felt a soft, ragged breath creeping past his lips, making his words sound strange. "I'm going to marry a moron."

"It's okay," Richie stopped sucking at his neck, looking at him so gently, so fondly, his head was heavy, his heart swelling. "I'm marrying a moron too." He kissed him again, and the wind blew, snow cutting through them.

They climbed out of the pool, sprinting through the snow on bare feet, the moment they were past the doors, Richie pulled him into another kiss, his hand grabbing at his jaw. He caught one of Stan's wet curls around a fingertip.

"Why did you follow me in?" His voice was tiny, foreign and vulnerable.

"I'm with you, Richie," Stan felt like an idiot, in the hotel lobby, in nothing but his underwear, holding his fiancé and a bundle of clothes. "Always, I’d follow you anywhere." Richie's lips split into a smile. They took the elevator up, fishing the room key out of Stan's pocket. They were speaking in hushed whispers, hands shaking, laughter making it even harder to unlock the door. The room across the hall opened, and Stan froze, face to face with his father. He looked at them, pale and bony and almost naked, their blue lips and wet hair.

"Swimming?" His voice was dry, Stan nodded, and he sighed deeply. "Sleep well, Stanley, Richard." He finally got the door, and threw their suits aside, locking the door, sliding the deadbolt into place. They stood for a moment, just looking at each other.

He was strangely small, his curls and his hair and his warm skin. Stan grabbed him by the waistband of his briefs, tugging him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them, turning on the shower. He pulled him into a kiss, just to kiss him, just to be close to him. They were all gentle touches, just careful, light hands, waiting until steam gathered on the mirror to step under the shower stream. They peeled off their underwear, hanging them over the the side of the tub. Stan had moved his toiletries into the bathroom the moment they'd arrived, and he was grateful for it now. There was no way he was putting that suspicious bar of hotel shampoo anywhere near his hair. They kissed and moved together under the warm water, soaking the chlorine out of their hair, warming each other up. Stan covered his fingers in his shampoo, massaging it into Richie's wet curls, pressing tiny kisses to his neck, biting at his collarbone, helping rinse the suds away. He poured conditioner in his hand, messaging that in too, leaving it while he washed his body, the soap he brought from home, hands sliding over Richie's shoulders, down his arms, his chest, kissing the tips of his fingers, washing all the soap away, the conditioner following it down the drain

He felt calloused hands all over him, after that, ghosting over his arms, running through his hair, scrubbing every inch of him. Richie turned off the water, and carried him out of the shower, still soaking wet, pressing him against the bed and fucking him so hard he saw stars.

When they were clean again, rinsing off in the shower and crawling back to bed, Stan pulled Richie's head against his chest, running his hands through his hair absently.

"What kind of house do you think we'll have?" He whispered, feeling oddly emotional. "Once we're married."

"I think it'll be small, just big enough for the two of us, and Elise." Richie loved that cat, his little black, white, and orange calico, Stan usually woke up to her sleeping on his chest when he spent the night at his place, purring in her sleep. "I think we'll have a study for you, somewhere you can go when you need to get away from me, and we'll have lots of windows, and we'll paint the walls ourselves. The kitchen will be yellow, the living room will be blue." Stan smiled, letting Richie's voice carry him to this imagined future, seeing it so clearly he almost ached for it. "We'll have walls of bookshelves, and a real record player, a standing one with a good speaker, and we'll have all this old, grandmotherly furniture, because you love that shit. It'll all be vintage and dusty, and you'll sweep twice a week, and I'll do it every other day, and you'll get really pissed at me when I don't do the dishes, but you'll love me too much to care." He was drifting off, only catching pieces. "A flower garden that Mike will help with sometimes, and a wall of trees instead of a fence, unless we get a dog... the art on the walls is going to be nonsensical, because you have a weird thing for creepy shit... and none of it matters, as long as it's the two of us." His lips on his forehead, their hands together.

"G'night, I love you." Stan mumbled, barely hearing Richie's response, drifting between realities.

"I love you too, little bird."

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be up soon! Stozier wedding :)


End file.
